


Once Upon a Halloween

by queststar



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Halloween, Horror, Minor Character Death, Storytelling, Swan Queen - Freeform, Teen Henry Mills (Once Upon a Time), Trick or Treating, swanqueen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:06:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27282385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queststar/pseuds/queststar
Summary: “So, what does scare you, mom?”Regina snorted. “I was the Evil Queen. People were scared of me, not vice versa.”Emma looked up, relieved to draw the attention away from the screen. “There must be something that will scare you shitless.”“I doubt it,” Regina told them both.Or: In which Henry tells a story that scares Regina shitless.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 36
Kudos: 157





	Once Upon a Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween! Henry's story contains some graphic violence and blood. Be warned, y'all :)

Halloween, Regina lamented, had been much more fun when Henry was still young. They would dress up, go out to trick or treat, and after, they would count the candy, put it in a jar and it would take Henry almost all year to empty it. But he always looked so cute in his costumes. There was one time he had wanted to go as Pongo, so she had bought the cutest onesie for him and everyone had melted upon seeing his cute little face. Or that time he had wanted to go as a Ninja Turtle, carrying that ridiculously big turtle shield on his back (she’d got to carry it later when he had gotten tired of it). In the most recent years, he had preferred to be something scary. A zombie, or a mummy.

But this year he had deemed himself too big for trick-or-treating. Instead, he had wanted to do spooky stuff. Watching horror movies, for instance, with both his moms. See if they were easily scared, he had joked. And Henry had picked The Ring. 

So here she was, sitting on the couch, with her wife Emma and Henry tucked between them. And she was bored. The film was not scary at all. 

However, she heard a muffled sound from the other side of the couch and when she looked up, she saw Emma hiding behind a throw pillow.

Regina snorted. “Seriously? You’re scared of this stuff?”

“It’s unreal, woman,” Emma said muffled, peaking over the pillow with one eye, quickly turning away again when she saw the girl crawling out of the tv on… well, tv. “I’m positive I can’t look at my tv for at least seven days straight now. I hate, hate, _hate_ horror movies.”

“We can watch Scream after,” Henry added helpfully. “That shit’s so funny that it’s not even scary anymore.”  
  
“Language,” Regina scolded, swatting his arm. He was sitting in between his moms. 

He shot her an apologetic smile. “So, what _does_ scare you, mom?” 

Regina snorted. “I was the Evil Queen. People were scared of _me_ , not vice versa.”

Emma looked up, relieved to draw the attention away from the screen. “There must be _something_ that will scare you shitless.”

“I doubt it,” Regina told them both, glaring at Emma for her language. The blonde didn’t even notice at all.

Henry smirked. “Do you mind if I try?” he asked.

“Try to scare me?”

“Yup,” Henry said. “I’ve been working on a story and it’s pretty good.”

Regina shrugged. “Try all you want. But I’ve seen and done too many things to be easily impressed.” 

“All right, deal. Meet me back here in an hour.” He jumped off the couch and bounced away up to his room. Both women followed him with their eyes until he was out of sight, the movie still playing.

“So, uhm, do you want to continue watching or can I turn it off?” Emma asked, grimacing while waving at the screen.

“Turn it off, Swan, if you want to,” Regina answered, waving dismissively with her hand. “I don’t care much for it anyway.”

~*~

Exactly an hour later, Regina returned to the living room. When she saw the flickering lights of the candles, she paused in her step, surprised. Henry had killed all the lights and the burning candles spread an eerie light. But Regina, used to candlelight in both her vault and the castles she used to live in, smiled at her son who sat cross-legged on the floor. He held a notepad in his hand, and a piece of glass was placed next to him on the floor.

“What’s that for?” she curiously asked, but he simply shook his head.

“It’s for the story. Sit, please, mom,” Henry told her, eyes shimmering with excitement. She did as he asked and sat on the floor next to him, leaving enough room for Emma who barged in moments later.

“Whoah,” she said, a look of suspicion on her face. “It’s already scary in here.”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Emma. It’s just candles.”  
  
“But it’s Halloween. Ergo, creepy. Especially after the movie I just saw. My nerves.”

Regina shook her head. “You’re the sheriff of a magical town - beating monsters is what you _do._ I can’t wrap my head around the idea that any of this remotely scares you.”

“Well,” Emma mumbled, “none of these monsters crawled out of the tv.” 

Henry, who’d watched the friendly banter of his moms highly amused, scraped his throat. “Shall we start?”

The women turned their faces to him, and Regina nodded while Emma shrugged. 

“Okay!” Henry said. “I am going to tell you a story. But I want you to picture it in your mind, so I want to ask you to close your eyes and keep them closed.”

“Fine,” Regina sighed, and her eyes fluttered shut.

There was a short shuffling sound in front of them, and Henry scraped his throat.

“Once upon a time, there-”

Regina snorted.

“What, mom?!”  
  
“Nothing, nothing,” she smiled, eyes still closed but highly amused. “If you want to tell us a fairytale, please do.”

Henry was silent for a few seconds, and then he started again, with a different beginning this time.

“They say buildings have souls. I don’t believe that. But I do believe that houses have spirits. The spirits of people or otherworldly things that live in it. Not necessarily ghosts, though. But sometimes, when you walk into a house, you can feel it. The way it is enjoyed, the way people have lived in it. If they have abused it, let the state deteriorate, or if they’ve lived in it with love, kept it well-maintained. 

But some houses deceive you. They seem friendly enough. As if they’ve been inhabited by people who loved it, who loved each other, who built families in them. But they’re hiding a sinister secret, something so old that no one can remember but which lingers into the far future. A future that for some, might turn out to be… unfortunate.”

There was a small pause. Regina still carried a smile around her lips. Henry wasn’t the author for nothing. He was a great narrator and she found the story already interesting. Not at all scary, though. The haunted house was a theme that was a highly utilized subject of which she’d seen and heard many themes already, often with ghosts lingering within. This one would be one of many, but well, she liked listening to Henry’s voice. It wasn’t hard to indulge.

To her surprise, he switched the subject.

“Peter and Wendy Jones were a well-off couple in their mid-thirties. Peter owned a company that developed software and he did really well, while Wendy worked as a doctor in a renowned hospital. And they wanted to start a family in the outskirts of a thriving little town. So began their quest for the perfect house, but it took them a while to find something they both liked. And they had to hurry because Wendy was five months pregnant with their first child. But the quest for the perfect house was pressing on them both. 

And at the moment that they were at the verge of giving up their demands and abandoning their quest until after their baby was born, much to their surprise and delight, they found a manor - abandoned, but well-kept, glowing lawns stretching to both sides, an immense backyard in which they could picture their future children running. They stumbled upon this area of the town by accident by accident. they had taken a wrong turn and then, when they were trying to find their way again, they found their dream house. It must be a sign, they told each other.

This mansion was built long ago, a reflection of an egocentric land owner’s megalomania, who had wanted to show off his wealth. And he had succeeded. To this day and age, the stately mansion was plastered bright white, the pillars of the Greek-styled porch statically rose up in front of them. The two floors towered over them as if it wanted to intimidated them, yet it still radiated a friendliness that both Wendy and Peter latched on to. It was as if the house itself invited them in.

Naturally, they made an appointment with the realtor immediately, who led them around the next day. And they fell in love with the house even more.

The entrance hall sounded hollow when they arrived, but there was light coming in from the windows next to the door and the ones at the top of the spiraling staircase. The sun sparkled on the white, marble floors. On their left was a huge living room, in which they could easily picture a family sitting in front of the fireplace on cold nights, or around the Christmas tree they could place in front of the window. The kitchen, right from the entrance, was huge. Aside from the kitchen itself, looking out over the back yard, there was a huge kitchen island where an entire family could have breakfast, while one of the parents served them pancakes, Sunday’s waffles, or any other treats. The realtor described it as a kitchen diner. Next to the stairs was a small basement, which Peter laughingly claimed as a wine cellar, and the door next to it lead to another, smaller room, which could easily be pictured as a home office.

When they went up the stairs, they found three royal bedrooms and two bathrooms, one of which linked two of the bedrooms together.”  
  
Regina frowned and couldn’t help but interrupt. “you're describing our house,” she told him. He answered with a smile in his voice. “Hey, I only had an hour to prepare. But I’m glad you caught on. Just… picture it as our house.” 

“Shut up, Regina, I want to hear this,” Emma murmured and inwardly, Regina rolled with her eyes. 

“Carry one, sweetheart,” she said.

“All right,” Henry said. “What surprised them most was the price of the mansion because it was a lot lower than they expected. Of course, they didn’t complain, but they did ask why. There weren’t any hidden defects, were there? But the realtor assured them there weren’t. In the past years, they had maintained it, but it had been empty. It had come into their possession by heritage and it just didn’t want to sell. Actually, they were the first who had shown any interest in the property. Peter and Wendy did not mind, and the sale was quickly concluded. 

They moved in early November when autumn had already turned the colors of the trees surrounding their garden. It was a beautiful sight and both Wendy and Peter couldn’t be happier. They congratulated each other on their luck in finding it. And they were so happy. 

The only stain on their happiness was some of the people living in their area, who came to warn them. ‘Nothing good has become of the people living in that house,’ they had warned them. ‘Strange things have happened. That house is not safe.’

Wendy was worried, but Peter had laughed it away. ‘Why would the house not be safe?’ he had told his wife. ‘It’s a house. It can’t do anything. People, they’re the ones who are not safe. This house is in perfect condition.’ And it was. And Wendy let go of her doubts, while she continued to put the final touch in the nursery - a crib they had found in the attic and which Peter had restored to its full glory. It suited the room, it suited the house. And, Peter sometimes commented, it sometimes felt like the house was as happy with them as they were with their house.

In December they were fully settled, and they celebrated their first Christmas in their new house. Life was perfect, and it became even more so when their daughter Sarah was born in January. It couldn’t go any better for the Joneses, they thought. They had their perfect family, an awesome house, a great life. Spring arrived, and summer approached rapidly. Sarah was a happy baby, they didn’t have much to complain about. In fact, when Wendy would talk about fellow mothers, she would often realize how lucky she was. Sarah slept through the night within two weeks, hardly fussed at all, laughed a lot - sometimes it seemed she was laughing at something behind them, but they just congratulated each other on having such a perfect child. 

Autumn came around the corner, and since both of them were really looking forward to celebrating Halloween first, then their 1-year anniversary of living in this house, and after that the holiday season, with their daughter for the first time, they abundantly decorated their house for Halloween. Nothing too creepy, though. They had Sarah, who was around 9 years old, and there were still some neighbors who were hesitant to come to their house. Over the summer, they had organized a few barbecues to take the superstitions around their house away. And yet, some of the townspeople stayed wary - neither Peter nor Wendy could understand why. 

And then, finally, Halloween had arrived. Especially Wendy was excited, picturing all the neighborhood kids to come by to trick-or-treat. She couldn’t wait until her little Sarah was big enough to go from door to door. But right now, her baby was sleeping soundly in her crib, the bowl of candy was filled and stood next to the door, and Wendy was eagerly waiting for the kids to knock on their door.

 _Tick tick tick._ Somebody tapped on the window next to the door. Excitedly, Wendy rushed to open up, grabbed the bowl on her way there, and grabbed the doorknob.

But nobody was there. 

She laughed. It was probably a prank of one of the neighborhood kids. ‘All right,’ she called out, ‘You got me! If you want your candy, you’re going to have to show up though!’ She waited for a little while, but nobody came. Shrugging, she returned indoors and closed the door. 

It was silent for a little while and then again - _tick tick tick._ But again, when Wendy opened the door, the bowl of candy at the ready - but again, nobody was there. She looked over at the street, where a bunch of children and their parents were trick-or-treating, but none of them had approached their porch. She frowned. It was as if people just didn’t _want_ to come to their door, except to pull some lame pranks. She turned on her heels, closed the doors, and immediately, there was another tap. Quickly, she _yanked_ the door open but - nobody.

Wendy was getting annoyed, now. 

She left the door open to see if she could catch them, kept an eye on the front door. And then, she sensed a movement behind her. However, when she turned she couldn't see anyone.

Wendy sighed. Didn’t really know how to deal with pranksters and decided to close the door. A little agitated, she went to the kitchen to get some water. Absentmindedly, she raised her glass and stiffened - she thought she’d seen a movement in the window’s reflection but again, when she turned, nobody was there.

Did one of the neighbor kids had gotten indoors? Or was she starting to lose her mind? She didn’t know, but she was getting angry, now. She didn’t know why she deserved to be pranked like this - it wasn’t like she had been a troublemaker in the area. None of them were, in fact, they had always been polite and friendly neighbors.

She went to see her husband in the study, lamented on the pranks but he simply laughed. ‘Kids will be kids,’ he told her. ‘I am sure Sarah will be the one tricking us in a few years.’ And slightly upset that he wasn’t as supportive as he normally was, she went upstairs to sulk.

 _Tick tick tick -_ the same sound but now, it came from the bedroom. As if someone was ticking at the window. Now really angry, she marched to the bedroom. ‘Who’s here?’ she cried out in anger. Nobody was, of course - it might as well be someone outside throwing little pebbles to the window, or maybe a branch from their apple tree if the wind had picked up. But as she moved to the window, she felt a movement behind her - a slight air displacement. As if someone was walking behind her.

She turned instantly, thinking that maybe Peter had followed her. 

Nobody was there, only a slight draft that raised her hackles.

Now, she started to worry. Was someone in their house? Had she locked the front door? And what about the back door? She couldn’t remember. A shiver ran down her spine as she started to think that maybe someone had come in. Maybe she should go back and check the locks.

But then, Sarah started to cry.

Sarah never cried unless she was running a fever.

Instantly, Wendy was worried. Sarah hardly ever fussed when she was put to bed and Wendy’s anxiety levels were up already because of the recent events. Sarah’s wailing increased in volume as Wendy rushed over to her child’s bedroom. She grabbed the doorknob, wanted to yank it open but instead of the door opening, both the door and the wall moved like rubber. It was like the walls had gotten a certain fluidity to them that made it impossible for her to open the door. ’Sarah,’ she called out to her child, while frantically trying to pull at the door - it just bounced back and forth but she never stopped trying to reach her child, ’Sarah! Mommy’s here, I’ll be right with you, darling!’

In a blind panic, Wendy started to push the door, but the door simply bent inwards, as did the walls while Sarah's wailing increased. ‘Sarah!’ she shrieked, while Sarah’s cries started to turn into horrifying screams, ‘Peter! Peter, help!’ 

There was a shout from downstairs - maybe an acknowledgment from her husband, and then, a muffled sound, as if there was a struggle, as she continued to push and pull the rubbery door, desperate to want to reach their child. And then an eerie scream came from down the stairs, something she had never heard before but she instantly knew it was Peter who’d screamed. Wendy’s heart raced in fright, it pounded loudly in her ears, she felt the need to throw up and her child was still screaming and she was still trying to push through, desperate tears now running over her cheeks while she screamed for both Sarah and her husband.

And suddenly, all screaming stopped.

Sarah was quiet once more.

So was Peter. 

The house was completely silent and it was even more terrifying than the screams of terror of moments ago.

But as the screaming subsided, the walls and doors had turned back to normal and Wendy threw it open and she rushed to the child’s crib - only to find it empty.

‘Sarah!’ she cried, ‘Peter! Peter! Sarah’s _gone!’_

But Peter didn’t reply. 

She ran down the stairs on wobbly legs - or maybe it wasn’t her legs that were wobbly, maybe the stairs moved, maybe they were as rubbery as the door just had been - but she didn’t care, she pushed onwards to the study on sheer willpower - _splash_.

Splash. She registered the sound before she registered into what she had stepped. 

Blood. 

A lot of blood. Hysteria consumed her - it could only be Peter’s blood, he’d been here only minutes ago and she’d heard him scream before everything turned silent. She sobbed in horror when she saw a foot sticking out behind the desk. No, no, no, not Peter, it _couldn't_ be!

Slowly, she stepped forward. _Splash. Splash._ It wasn’t just her footsteps she heard, she realized horrified. There _was_ someone else here. She grabbed a letter opener from the desk. ‘Show yourself!’ she cried out, almost slipping in the blood.

 _Tick tick tick_.

There it was again. The sound drove her crazy as it ticked on and she yelped in fear. _Tick tick tick._ She couldn’t stay, she had to leave. Peter was dead, her child was not in her bed - someone _must_ have taken her outside, maybe even through her bedroom windows - she needed to get _help._

But when she reached the front door, she couldn’t open it - the doors and walls had morphed into this elastic solid substance once more. She pulled, she pushed against the rubbery door but it followed every movement she made and Wendy screamed, pleaded, cried for help. Quickly she grabbed an umbrella from near the coat rack, tried to forcefully smash the window but they were as rubbery as the door. And then, it seemed like the floor opened below her. As if it sucked her in and swallowed her whole, all the while hearing _tick tick tick_. It crushed her legs when it closed up again, broke her bones and Wendy screamed and screamed and screamed until she couldn't anymore.”

Henry paused, his own breath shallower. Both Regina and Emma gasped and leaned a little closer to hear the next part.

“The next morning,” he resumed, his voice quieter now, “The neighbors came together to discuss the horrid sounds they had heard coming from the mansion during the previous night. They were reluctant to go and check, but since Peter and Wendy had always been friendly neighbors, a couple of them banded together and went to the front door.

When they knocked on the door, nobody answered. It was eerily quiet. One of them looked through the window and started screaming. ‘Blood,’ he said, ‘I see blood!’ And they called the police, too afraid to go any further.

Upon arrival, the police forced the door open and they found the battered bodies of Wendy and Peter, lying in a pool of their own blood. Almost as if they were drained of it all - Wendy in the hall, Peter in the study. Their bones had been crushed in their bodies, there were hardly any whole ones left, the coroner would later say. He didn't have an explanation of how it could have happened. There was no sign of forced entry, no sign of a murder-suicide.

Sarah was missing, so a nation-wide search was conducted for the baby. Everyone was looking out for her, most recent images were spread out in the area, but nobody found her.

It was the house, the neighbors whispered to each other. The house had done this to them. They’d warned them, but the Joneses had waved their concerns away. It is also what they told the press, who visited their village upon hearing about the Halloween Massacre and the missing child. Of course, nobody believed the town’s people, but it was a juicy story that was plastered all over regional and national television. The house became an attraction and it was the last thing the town needed, so the town’s council decided to tear it down. 

Demolition started quickly as nobody was opposed - the town council was relieved to get rid of the building. The once majestic house was torn down, bit by bit. And during one of the final days of the demolition, one of the workers said: ‘Stop! There’s something in here!’

As the ground workers moved closer to where their colleague had pointed at, they saw something that made their blood run cold. Because there, below the house’s foundation, they found three tiny skeletons. Babies. And when they moved on, more carefully, they found a fourth, however, this one wasn’t rotten away yet. She was still recognizable as little Sarah. They were horrified. And yet, nobody could explain how she - or any of the babies found - could have ended up below the house’s foundation. And it still is a mystery of how these babies had ended up below the house - a mystery that will probably never have an answer.

I don’t believe houses have souls. But I believe they have spirits. And sometimes, these spirits start to live their own lives.”

There was a silence as Henry concluded the story.

“Wait - that’s it?” Emma cried out. “How did the babies end up below the foundation? There must be some sort of explanation!”

Regina, who’d opened her eyes, saw Henry grinning to his birth mother. “Nobody has an explanation.”

“You’re the writer, of _course_ you can have an explanation!” Emma huffed in frustration.

Henry rolled his eyes at Emma, before he turned his eyes, full of anticipation, to Regina. “Well?” he said eagerly.

She had to admit, it was a good story. And antagonizing, too, especially with baby Sarah. Regina loved children, and she had lamented that the child hadn’t survived. It wasn’t a horror story for nothing.

She smiled, a little guarded. “It was an amazing story,” Regina complimented him, noticing how his face dropped and she eyed him sympathetically, “And I admit it was… unsettling, especially in the end, but I fear that it wasn’t enough to ‘scare the crap out of me’.” She used her fingers to create the imaginary quotation marks and saw Henry frown in disappointment. 

“Bummer. I was sure this was going to work.” 

“If it is any consolation,” Regina said, reaching out to take his hand, “I preferred your story over the movie. A lot.”

He grumbled a little, but his fingers curled around hers. 

“I still have so many questions,” Emma whined, which made Regina lean over to squeeze her knee. 

“I’m sorry, dear,” she told her.

Henry sighed and got up. “Okay, it was a nice try. Thanks for indulging me. Can I go play on my Playstation?”   
  
Both women nodded and he scampered off, after which Emma got up as well. She extended a hand to her wife, who took it graciously. Emma’s arms slid around her wife’s waist and she eyed her questioning. “You really weren’t scared?”   
  
Regina shook her head. “You need more to scare me.” 

Emma wrinkled her nose. “No, it’s fine. I’ll just take the loser award for not being able to watch horror movies.”

Regina laughed and pulled Emma to the couch. “Let me make it better for you,” she said with a purr, pushing her nose in Emma’s hair, nuzzling her ear. “I’m sure I can find a way to make you forget all about it.”

~*~

_Tickticktick-tick. Tick-tick-tick. Tick-tick. Tick._

Disoriented, because she was being pulled out of a deep sleep, Regina blinked groggily against the darkness. Something had woken her up, but she wasn’t exactly sure what it was. 

_Tick._

She frowned, rubbed her eyes, and turned towards the sleeping form of her wife next to her. The ticking sound came from the window, so, still half asleep, she got up and staggered towards it. But when she opened the curtains to look outside, nothing was there. Only the moon peeked through the clouds and entered the bedroom through the opened curtain. It left an eerie impression.

_Tick._

It was annoying, too similar to Henry’s story, and she felt how anxiety settled in the pit of her stomach.

Suddenly, realization struck, and instantly, Regina was wide awake. She whirled around, strode towards the bedroom door. With a frown, she pulled her robe from the hook on the door and yanked it open. The ticking sound had stopped but she pushed on, towards her son’s bedroom. 

“Not funny, Henry,” she said, opening the door to his room. “Choose your battles wisely.” She marched to the bed and pulled off the sheets. Her son turned to face her, blearily looked up at his mother.

“Mom?” he muttered. “What’s going on?”

_Tick._

_Tick._

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Regina sighed, realizing that he indeed had been vast asleep. “Nothing at all. Go back to sleep.”

Leaving his bedroom much quieter than she had arrived, she went downstairs and turned on the lights. The wind had picked up outside. She could hear it howling around the house. It meant the ticking sound was probably a couple of little branches hitting the windows.

Shivering, she pulled her robe close, decided she could go for some warm milk and then, she would try to sleep again. And after she had taken a mug and the milk from the fridge, after she had settled on one of the barstools, she realized she had stopped hearing the ticking sound.

Probably a figment of her imagination, then. Maybe Henry’s story had lingered in her mind because he had used their own house as an example for his haunted house story. She sighed deeply. It was odd, though. Because Regina Mills didn’t scare easily. And the story, albeit highly entertaining and Henry who’d been its excellent narrator, wasn’t different from a lot of other ghost stories she’d heard or read. Still, this one had made her feel a little uneasy. Had unsettled her, maybe more than she had realized if she now started to project it on her own house.

_Tickticktick-tick. Tick-tick-tick. Tick-tick. Tick._

Startled, she whirled around, towards the back door, knocking her mug off the kitchen island in the process - with a loud sound, it shattered to pieces and the remainder of the milk splattered all over feet - and nearly jumped through the ceiling as she saw a reflection in the door’s window. She yelped until she realized it was her own mirror image staring back at her, eyes wide and frightened.

_Tick. Tick._

_Tick._

The sound seemed to slow down.   
  
It was at this point that Regina started to get really angry - a reaction triggered by anxiety and fear for her family. The story could not be true - it simply couldn’t. This was just a house, it had been her house for over thirty years, it was created by a curse and there was nothing to be scared about. It also meant that someone was pulling her leg. And the one who was messing with her mind now had a huge problem, she thought grimly. “Come out, come out, where ever you are,” she growled lowly, readying a fireball in her hand.

She saw herself in the door’s reflection, eyes dark, fireball flickering. They had no idea who they were messing with, she snarled, curling up her lip in rage. 

Before leaving the kitchen, she double-checked if the back door was closed and then marched into the living room. “I swear to God, if you don’t show yourself I’ll make your life a living hell,” she snapped in the empty, quiet living room, while the anxiety rushed through her veins, heart hammering against her chest. She hadn’t turned the lights on - the fireball lit the room with its flickering flames.

Wait - was someone behind her? She whirled around and threw the fireball on instinct - but nobody was there. The fireball hit the opposite side of the hall, next to the door, nearly missing all their coats and Regina waved her hand to kill it, before their coats would go up in flames, and instantly readied a new one.

“What the hell?” 

Emma’s voice came loud from the top of the stairs. “Regina, what are you _doing?”_

“Someone’s in our house,” Regina growled, “And they’re messing with me and my family and I’m going to _kill_ them.”

Emma blinked, and rubbed her face before she sighed deeply. “Really? Regina, nobody’s in our house. Whoever would want to mess with both Savior and Evil Queen? They must be insane to try. Besides, all the windows and doors are locked. I checked.”

Regina looked up through narrowed eyes, a suspicion dawning in her anxious mind. “Was it you?” she asked, the outrage plain and clear in her voice.

“Was it me - _what_?” Emma replied, puzzled.

“I wouldn’t put it past you to prank me,” Regina snapped, but Emma shook her head in disbelief. 

“Jesus, Regina, It’s the middle of the night and I _love_ my sleep. I just woke up because I heard you scream downstairs and I wanted to come and check up on you. What the hell is going on?” Emma started to get annoyed as well. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Regina said, not wanting to reveal what had scared her so - because she had to admit, it did sound a little weird, “And I went to make some warm milk for myself. I dropped the mug.”

“Liar,” Emma frowned at her, as she started to walk down the stairs. 

And when she was almost on the first floor, they both heard it.

_Tickticktick-tick. Tick-tick-tick. Tick-tick. Tick._

Regina whirled around. “Damn it!” she cried out, the anxiety evident in her voice but she had to admit, it was a relief to have Emma here with her. Even if she would never admit it.

“Wait,” Emma said, brow furrowed and realization dawning on her face, “ _That’s_ what woke you up?”

_Tick. Tick._

_Tick._

“Yes,” Regina admitted, moving closer to Emma and grabbing her hand. “Someone’s here.”  
  
And then, Emma did something that Regina hadn’t expected. 

She started to laugh. But really. She bent over laughing, held her belly, howled. 

Regina pulled herself away from Emma. “I don’t see how any of this is funny,” she huffed, wrapping her arms around her own body while her eyes flicked from left to right, to make really sure that nobody was there. And she grew angry because Emma wouldn’t stop guffawing.

“Regina, did you turn down the heating before we went to bed?” Emma barked out between hiccups from laughter.

“I can’t remember that I have,” Regina answered stiffly - and then something in her head suddenly clicked.

Oh, god.

Emma came closer, wiped the tears from her eyes, and pulled Regina into her arms. 

Oh, _god,_ no.

Regina groaned. “You can’t be serious.” She raised her hand, pressed it to her forehead, and closed her eyes in agony. How could she _not_ have known this.

Emma snorted in Regina’s shoulder, trying to stop another fit of laughter. 

Regina had suddenly realized what it was that she’d heard. Last night, she’d forgotten to turn down the heating so that meant that every time the boiler sprang to life to warm the house, the pipes expanded a little, resulting in the ticking sound. To be honest, Regina had heard it a couple of times already last winter, but as they hadn’t really needed the heating until a few weeks ago, she hadn’t really paid attention. 

Still, despite lamenting on her own stupidy, she was highly relieved that expanding, ticking pipes was all it was.

Emma laughed. “Admit it, though. The story scared you shitless.”

Regina sighed, felt incredibly stupid. Because yes, she had been… impressed with Henry’s story, and the heating had amplified that anxiety it but she had masked it with anger, rage, and well, fireballs. “I was scared for you,” she told Emma instead with raised eyebrows.

“Liar,” Emma hummed, a satisfied smirk on her face - oh, how Regina wanted to wipe it off, “Henry’s story scared you. The most badass fairytale character was scared shitless by her son’s Halloween tale.” She looked smug. 

“If you ever tell him-”  
  
“You’ll what? Bury me below the foundation of our house?” Emma looked at her with sparkling eyes, tilted her head, kissed her on the tip of her nose. “You look cute when you’re scared. Makes me want to protect you - _save you_ even more.”

“Asshole.”

“Language, Madam Mayor,” Emma said, eyes wide, mocking her. “What would our son think?” 

“Let’s go back to bed,” Regina grumbled in defeat and pulled away. She pushed Emma towards the staircase and followed soon after.

But not before she’d turned down the heating.


End file.
